


Don't be a Head Case

by RhysLahey



Series: Scisaac short fics [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Beacon Hills Lacrosse Team, Concussions, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Concussion Syndrome, Scisaac Week 2020, Sports injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26927776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhysLahey/pseuds/RhysLahey
Summary: During a game Scott gets concussed, and Isaac has to take care of him
Relationships: Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall
Series: Scisaac short fics [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960519
Comments: 2
Kudos: 62
Collections: Scisaac Week





	Don't be a Head Case

**Author's Note:**

> For day 4 of Scisaac Week: Hurt/Comfort.
> 
> And as alwys, thanks to i_dont_want_to_tell_you_my_name, who learnt a lot about concussions and did not laugh too much at me.

At the Beacon Hills Cyclones’ pitch, the game was close.

Devenford were really pushing for a win, partly because of their one star player, namely Brett Talbot, but also partly because the Cyclones were spending more time arguing with each other than focusing on the game. First of all, there was Liam. The newest werewolf had only the barest grasp on self-control, and he was letting every single taunt from the opposition get to him. There was also the great hole in the team left by Danny, who had transferred. Finstock’s random rotations to find a goalie were grinding everyone’s gears. Isaac’s attitude did not help either, because he was too busy casually bumping shoulders into anyone who dared cross his path, and nobody was buying his unapologetic shoulder shrug and fake-innocent grin. Scott was trying his best to keep all his teammates focused, but his words of encouragement did little to ease the tension and despair the team was accumulating.

“Guys, we’re all on the same boat here! We need to work together,” the captain yelled at half time as he gathered all his players into a circle. The rain began to pour harder. “They are _not_ better than us.”

“It does not look like it,” a low voice came from the huddled players.

“Shut _up_ , Greenberg,” Isaac moaned with a roll of his eyes. For all his attitude, he would never do anything to undermine Scott’s captaincy. “None of us have our heads in the game. Simple as.” The silence of the players confirmed Isaac’s words.

“Isaac is right,” Scott insisted as he looked at his boyfriend with a smile. “Nothing outside this field matters right now. I don’t care about your grades, I don’t care about your work, and I don’t care if your dog is sick, and I don’t care about your girlfriends or boyfriends,” the captain continued. He obviously did not mean that, but he needed to wind his players up. “We are here to win tonight and nothing else matters. Once we’ve got a win and we’re out of this pitch everything goes back to normal, but while you’re on this turf and wearing this jersey you all are here to crush Devenford. Do you hear me?!”

The cyclones yelled in agreement.

“We do it for this jersey and for this club,” Scott continued with a hungry smile, that was soon mirrored by the rest of the team. “We do it for all of us, because none of us came out here in the pouring rain to have our asses kicked by the likes of Devenford! Look at the player to your left, and look at the player to your right. We are all in the same team. We play for each other and we win together!!!”

The referee whistled, calling all the players back on the pitch. Finstock yelled his last instructions while holding an umbrella that had long ago broken in the wind and the rain. The cyclones got into position, and the game restarted.

Devenford won the ball off the start, but the Cyclones pressed hard, driving the greens back into their half. In the rain, the turf had turned into a quagmire, and many players lost their grip and fell flat on their backs in the tackles. The wind and the rain pushed the ball away, until the game turned into a chaotic mess.

Then Scott intercepted the ball. He ran forward while Liam opened a channel for him to run. Scott passed back to Isaac, who was open to the left, and drew two green defenders with him before lobbing it back to Scott. The captain quickly passed it to Stiles, who was in an advantaged position, but soon three Devenford players chased after him. Stiles panicked and passed back to Scott, and then it happened.

Brett went in shoulder first, lowering his position, aiming at Scott. The alpha saw it coming, but he slipped in the slushy mud and lost his balance. Both werewolves clashed, but Scott was in no control of his body and he fell head-first into Brett’s charging shoulder, bounced off, and fell hard.

His helmet flew off of his head. There was a thud. Everything went black.

**\---- <#)**

“ _SCOTT_!”

Isaac saw everything in slow motion. Stiles passing the ball, Scott receiving, Brett getting ready, and then there was the dry thud that echoed through the rain and the wind. Without letting go of his crosse, the beta ran directly to his fallen boyfriend. He grabbed Brett, who had knelt down by Scott’s side, by the collar and flung him backwards without restraining his werewolf strength.

“You’re dead,” Isaac said flatly and coldly as he turned on Brett with yellow glowing eyes and threatened him with his crosse before kneeling by Scott.

But Scott was out.

“Shit, shit, _shit_!” Isaac began to panic. “Babe, do you hear me?” the beta clicked his fingers. His own pulse was deafening in his ears. His mouth went dry. “Scott, _please_!”

That did the trick, because Scott’s eyes opened at that point. His eyes wandered around, trying to find something to focus on that was not far away or blurry. Eventually his brown eyes fell on his very worried boyfriend.

“What?” Scott answered, dragging the vowel as if he were drunk and blinking repeatedly.

“Scott!” Isaac screeched in surprised relief when his boyfriend came round. Around him the Cyclones had formed a circle while Coach Finstock and the referee ran towards them. “Okay, okay, are you okay?”

“I… I am,” Scott smiled as he sat up. “It was, I… I just had my wind knocked out. I’m fine. I can continue.”

“Move out, Lahey!” Finstock instructed, and Isaac had to use all his will power to do as he was told. “Hey, hey, McCall. Are you okay?

“Coach! Yeah, I am. Perfectly fine,” Scott closed his eyes and nodded a fraction too slowly. “I can play.”

“Coach, your player needs to be assessed for concussion,” the referee said.

“No, no, no. He’ll be fine. He can walk it off, right McCall?” Finstock insisted, and Isaac began to panic. Concussions were serious, but he did not know how they affected werewolves, and he had never seen Scott like this before – and that was scary.

“Yes, I sure can,” Scott continued smiling. His eyes began to focus on the worried faces around him, and his brain slowly put one and one together. “I’m not concussed, Coach.”

“Okay, listen to me. Scott, look at me,” Coach yelled through his manic grin, trying to make sure Scott actually focused on him, which should have been simple enough. “At me, _here_! Right. Do you know where we are?”

Scott looked around with his wondering eyes until he found his boyfriend’s face and he gave him what he hoped was a reassuring wink.

“McCall! Where are we?”

Scott scrunched his face, and then saw the green kit of the other players.

“Devenford prep!” the alpha answered, trying to sound all serious. Finstock rolled his eyes and Isaac bit his lip. This was not normal. Not at all.

“Who scored last?”

“Isaac,” Scott answered too quickly this time, not even trying to pretend that he had to think about the answer. Isaac’s brow furrowed and bit his lip anxiously, because Isaac had scored in the first half, and he definitely had not been the last one to score.

“Scott, listen carefully,” Bobby Finstock insisted as he put his hands on Scott’s shoulders and made sure that he was looking into his eyes. “If I say three, five, seven, what’s the next number?”

“Er, I… but you teach Econ, sir, not maths? Wh- why are you asking me this? Can I go back to play now?”

“Okay, enough,” the referee intervened, to Coach Finstock’s great frustration. “That’s three out of three he’s got wrong, Coach. He needs to be taken out.”

Isaac was the first one on the ground to help Scott while Coach Finstock tried to argue with the referee. Stiles was a close second, but the beta unceremoniously pushed him away.

“Hey, babe, look at me,” Isaac said in a low worried tone as he tried to pull a brave face, only to be met by Scott’s giddy smile and slightly unfocused eyes. The beta swallowed to control his growing panic. “Can you walk?”

“I’m fine?” Scott insisted. “I can run it off. I need to go back to the game.”

“Yeah… no. Not gonna happen, babe,” Isaac put Scott’s arm around his shoulder and lifted him up. “You’re going home.”

“But what about the game?”

“They’ll be fine. Can you walk?” Scott wriggled his arm off of Isaac and tried to step forward, but his knee wobbled, and not because of the soft mud underfoot. Isaac had to hold him again. “Yep, that’s a no then. Come on, make way…”

The Cyclones made way for their captain, who looked at them in confusion.

“Are you sure I can’t go back to play?”

“No, Scott. We’re going home.”

“Hey, Scott, wait,” someone called behind them, and Isaac saw it was Brett. His blood began to boil and his eyes flashed yellow, and he only stopped himself from ripping him apart because he was propping Scott up.

“Why don’t you take a long walk off a short pier?” Isaac offered with a grin while Scott waved vaguely at Brett.

“Hey, no, please, I’m sorry. It wasn’t on purpose.”

“He’s right babe,” Scott said, suddenly lucid. “I slipped. I saw him, but I slipped.” Then his coherence wavered for a second. “Where’s my helmet?”

“I swear, it was an accident,” Brett insisted.

Isaac took a long and furious look at the other werewolf, and all the signals he got were regret, concern, and honesty. Isaac let out a sigh and his face softened a fraction.

“Okay, don’t worry. It’s all in the game, right?” he offered, still not sure if he would go find Brett later just to beat him.

“He’ll be okay,” Brett offered with a smile.

“But I’ve never seen a concussed werewolf?” Isaac said in a low voice without masking his worry. It was true: he had seen bones snapping back into place and gashes close up within seconds, and the only time Scott had been injured without healing had been after the fight in the abandoned mall.

“Head injuries work differently,” Brett explained. “The chemical reactions and enhanced metabolism that allow us to heal better are all controlled up there. Do you know what to do?”

Despite Coach’s delusional dissociation from reality and concussion denial, the team had learnt a thing or two about head injuries. This was mostly because Danny had put various posters up in the locker rooms, and the school nurse had given them a short talk summarising everything they should and should not do.

“Yeah, we’re going home. I’ll call his mom.”

“Yes, I’m sorry Brett,” Scott said unprompted. “I’ve already got myself a tall, blond, Greek god of lacrosse. Stay away from him. You can’t come home.”

“Alright, that’s our cue,” Isaac rolled his eyes and turned around as Brett chuckled and went back to the game.

The Sheriff was waiting for the two werewolves by the sidelines with an umbrella and a bottle of water for Scott. Once they had the alpha sat down and away from the rain, they called Melissa, who told them that it was not necessary for him to go to the hospital and that he should just rest home until she got back from her shift. The Sheriff offered to drive them home, although Scott insisted on riding back home on his bike, which was not only inadvisable, it was also impossible, seeing that they had come with Stiles in his Jeep.

**\---- <#)**

“You know what you’re doing boys?” Noah asked with concern once they had sat Scott on the couch and wrapped him in a towel. The rain seemed to have waned to a drizzle, but it was unpleasantly wet and windy.

“Yes, Sheriff. Thank you very much,” Isaac gave him a sad smile.

“No problem. Just make sure he does not fall asleep and give him some pain killers. _Not_ aspirin,” he added in a very serious tone, and Isaac assented. The Sheriff waved goodbye.

“Are you going to be okay while I go and shower, Scott?” Isaac asked softly after closing the door and as he landed a kiss on his boyfriend’s hair.

“Was I really that bad?” Scott asked in return. He had definitely improved and was more coherent and aware of his surroundings, but he was still acting funny and had difficulty following conversations. Deaton had told him that with werewolves all the usual precautions about concussions still applied, so Isaac still had to take care of him.

“You were very keen on returning to the game.”

“Did we win?”

Isaac checked his phone. “Stiles says yes, we did.”

“Are you going to shower?” Scott returned to the original question, and Isaac knew that it was going to be a long evening.

“I am still wet and muddy,” the beta understated. They both were still in their lacrosse kit, and Isaac’s jersey was so caked in mud that he could not even tell what colour it was underneath.

“Can I have a shower too?”

“Of course you can,” Isaac gave him a warm smile. “Let’s get you out of that dirty kit first.”

Isaac helped Scott to the kitchen and carefully seated him on one of the stools. He pulled a bucket from under the sink and slowly threw in his muddy and soaked clothes and pads. Melissa was going to be thrilled with that, although he had already cleaned the mudprints they had left on the entrance. Stripped down to his drawers, Isaac then asked Scott to put his hands up, so he could take off his jersey and his pads.

“Why do you like me?” Scott asked when his head was still half-stuck into his pads.

“Because you’re my boyfriend, Scott,” Isaac grinned.

“Yeah, I know. But why me?”

Isaac finished pulling Scott’s top off only to see his soft brown eyes and his honest-to-god smile that made Isaac’s stomach flip.

“What do you mean why you?” Isaac knelt down to pull Scott’s socks off, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the question. Thankfully he did not have to answer.

“I’ve got a headache…”

“Yeah, well. Your helmet flew quite a distance and you landed flat on your back,” the beta remembered with a shiver. “Do you want a painkiller now?”

Scott nodded as he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. Isaac pushed the bucket full of muddy kit away and searched for the painkillers, which Scott drank with a glass of water.

“My head feels like it’s full of cotton wool,” he moaned pitifully.

“Yep… You’re up for some fun for a couple of days. Ready for that shower?” Isaac offered, and Scott nodded.

The alpha stood up unsteadily and the blond was quick to put his arm around his waist. The first thing Isaac noticed was how his skin on Scott’s began to absorb his boyfriend’s pain. Isaac gasped in surprise and Scott groaned.

“You okay?” Isaac held his boyfriend tighter

“Yeah,” Scott said through a moan. “I’m better now.”

It was not _all_ the truth, because Isaac could still sense his body absorbing the pulsating ache, but it was true enough. Scott sensed his boyfriend’s unease, so he turned around so that he was fully in Isaac’s embrace, resting his head on his shoulder. Isaac could only hug Scott closer and nuzzle his alpha’s hair.

“Come on, we’re still covered in mud.”

Scott sighed and, after kissing Isaac, he let his boyfriend lead him upstairs.

**\---- <#)**

Isaac told Scott to sit down on the toilet while he made sure the water was running warm enough for them to get in. The alpha kept groaning and pinching the bridge of his nose, although he had stopped with the incoherent questions.

“Come on,” Isaac grinned when the steam began to fill the shower. “Strip off and get in here.”

Scott managed to smile with enough malice to make Isaac chuckle, but the alpha extended his hand out to his beta lest he fell over when he stood up.

In the shower, and under the hot water, Isaac carefully rubbed the mud off of their skin. Considering the amount of gear they wore, there was not that much exposed skin, but they had both been on the floor in the muddy puddles repeatedly, and that liquid muck had got every- _fucking_ -where. Scott stood up while keeping a hand on the wall, and Isaac had to be careful when manoeuvring around his alpha or when asking him to turn around for him so he could rinse all the soap off. Scott was happy to comply, looking lovingly at his boyfriend as he took care of him.

“You didn’t answer.”

“Answer what? You’ve asked a lot of questions today, Scott,” Isaac squirted more gel on the sponge.

“Why do you like me?” Scott asked again with a smile, throwing his hands around Isaac’s neck this time.

“Why would I be with anyone else?” the blond chuckled, and Scott pecked him on the lips. “You’re handsome, and funny, and –”

“So is Danny,” Scott interrupted. “And he likes tall, athletic guys.”

Isaac bit his lip and he moved a fraction away from Scott so he could sponge him.

“Danny never paid me any attention,” he answered mindlessly, focused on scrubbing Scott’s tattooed arm. “And I don’t like Danny.”

“Everyone likes Danny,” was the matter-of-fact reply.

“Ha! Yeah, well, true; but I don’t like him in that way.”

“But you like me in that way?” Scott managed a smile as he closed his eyes and put his head right under the warm shower, still keeping his hands on Isaac’s shoulders.

“Aham, yup. Scott, I don’t know if you had noticed, but we have been together for some months now, and we’re having a shower together _right now_ , so it’s safe to assume so.” 

Scott smiled and gently rubbed his fingers on Isaac’s hair, but then, as he moved away from the shower, he scrunched his face. “My head still hurts.”

“Let’s get you some dinner then,” Isaac frowned before turning the water off and giving Scott a quick kiss.

**\---- <#)**

Once they were dry and in their pyjamas (Scott asked his boyfriend to help him and Isaac was happy to oblige), Scott insisted that he could walk down the stairs on his own. Isaac was not very convinced, but the alpha insisted and the beta had to let him try. To his credit, Scott did it without wavering for a second.

“I aced that,” Scott smirked with pride as he turned around.

“I think four-year olds also walk down stairs on their own,” Isaac teased, and Scott stuck his tongue out.

“What’s for dinner?”

“Let me have a look. You sit there and don’t watch the TV.”

“Urg! I hate concussions!”

“I hate them more,” Isaac said loudly as he walked to the kitchen. “You scared me there today Scott.”

“I’m sorry…” Scott’s sad voice came from the living room.

“Just put something on the radio,” Isaac mumbled as he opened the cupboards looking for something fast and filling. “I won’t be a minute.”

As Isaac busied himself in the kitchen, he heard Scott going through every single station in the county, huffing and groaning until he settled down for one that did not offend him personally that much. Not half an hour later, Isaac walked back into the living room with two werewolf-sized bowls of pasta, only to see Scott (who had turned down the volume to something less painful) dozing off on the corner of the couch, cuddling a cushion to his chest.

“Oi, you,” Isaac barked. “Eyes open.”

“Urrghhhh,” Scott groaned, sitting up. “It’s just this headache.”

“You can’t fall asleep, Scott! Not yet. And I thought you were better?” Isaac said with worry as he sat down, leaving their dinner on the coffee table.

“I was, but it just comes and goes, like _boom-boom-boom_ pounding,” the werewolf said with emphatic hand gestures around his head.

“You’re ever so eloquent,” Isaac grinned, but Scott threw himself over to Isaac for a needy cuddle. “What’s wrong now?”

“Nothing,” Scott replied burying his face into Isaac’s pyjamas. “I just want this feeling to go away.”

“You have to sit this one through, babe. And I mean that _literally._ Have some food.”

With an exaggerated moan, Scott pushed himself away and grabbed his bowl.

The two werewolves ate their dinner in silence, the radio in the background, sitting shoulder to shoulder. Isaac got a couple of texts from Stiles and from Liam, asking about how Scott was, and one phone call from Melissa to check on her son, whose headache had finally gone as the effect of the painkillers eventually kicked in. They left their empty bowls on the table and they leant back on the sofa with their hands laced together.

The evening passed slowly, but Isaac and Scott learnt a lot about local radio stations. They had some great selection of music, but the two boys enjoyed the programmes the most. They first had a local news bulletin, which noted that two traffic lights were down, that the drains down Madison had overflowed, and that the Cyclones had won (that got a loud woo and a celebratory kiss). They then moved on to a talk show where the reporter first interviewed a woman who claimed to have seen a monster growling with yellow eyes in the preserve.

“ _I saw it! It prowled like a mountain lion, and it roared, and its eyes glowed yellow when I flashed my light at it. Like… like a mountain lion.”_

“ _So,_ ” the interviewer asked, “ _was it a mountain lion_?”

The two boys tensed wen they heard this. Was there another werewolf? But they relaxed the moment the woman explained when and where it had happened, because after some quick calculations, Isaac realised that it had been the night of the full moon when Liam ran away. The alpha stifled a chuckle, but the beta laughed out loud.

“Don’t laugh at him,” Scott scolded his boyfriend. “Nobody is born knowing control.”

“I know,” he wiped a tear off his eye as the reporter moved on to the food section of his show. “But it _had_ to be Liam. Great work with that beta, babe.”

Scott feigned indignation and tried to push away from Isaac, who had his arm linked in Scott’s, but when the shorter werewolf pulled his arm away his eyes did a funny thing and he slowly laid back.

“Scott?” Isaac furrowed his brow.

“I just felt dizzy for a second.”

“Well, you lie down there. Do you want a blanket?”

Scott shook his head and he put his legs on top of Isaac’s as he massaged his temples. Isaac pulled the blanket from behind him regardless and threw it over them both.

“Remember that thing I told you about staying awake?”

“You’re the one throwing blankets over me,” Scott rolled his eyes. “Keep me awake then.” Isaac turned around with gleaming eyes and a cocky smirk. “Oh my _god_ , not like that! I’m very sure I’m not allowed that while recovering.”

“We’ll see about that,” Isaac continued grinning as he shifted until he was lying flat next to Scott with one hand over his chest and the other pillowing his head.

“Tell me something,” Scott said wriggling himself into a more comfortable position.

“Like what?” Isaac nuzzled his nose into Scott’s hair.

“Anything. But not a convoluted Stiles story. I’m not sure I’ll be able to follow…”

“Okay…” he licked his lips as he thought. “ _There once was a man from Nantucket, whose—_ ”

“Not _that_ ,” Scott slapped his hand against Isaac’s chest, but his boyfriend just chuckled and gave him a kiss.

“Okay, okay, fine. Have I told you when Cam and I went potting for crayfish?”

“No?” Scott arched his eyebrows in surprise. His boyfriend was not one to talk about his brother much.

Isaac then went on a string of anecdotes of him and his brother that Scott had never heard about. The blond beta told his boyfriend how he and his brother went to the creek at the back of the preserve and potted crayfish. He then told him about that swimming competition Cam had in Sacramento and how they had all travelled there. He even explained how he asked Lydia out a couple of years before, only to have his hopes crushed brutally. As he told these stories, Isaac traced circles with his finger over Scott’s t-shirt or along the skin on his arm, giving him goosebumps.

“You still haven’t asked my question,” Scott asked after Isaac finished. He searched for his boyfriend’s hand and squeezed.

“You mean _answered_?” Isaac joked. “I thought you were delirious. Ouch!”

Scott slapped his beta, and not only for laughing at him for his concussion. He knew Isaac preferred not to talk about feelings. He preferred to demonstrate them rather than having to put thoughts into words, but Scott was a great believer in words.

“I just want to know?”

Isaac rolled his eyes, but Scott patted his hand. The blond werewolf shifted until he was flat on his back and Scott turned to his side.

“You’ve always cared about me,” he said with a shrug, staring at the ceiling. “That was new, I suppose.”

“What, so you’d have gone off with anyone that had come for you and –?”

“ _No_ ,” Isaac interrupted. “Look at Derek. He seemed to care, and I didn’t, like… well. He’s _Derek_. He has… a unique way of teaching which put me off very quickly.”

Scott knew very well what Derek’s teaching methods were, so he gave Isaac a reassuring kiss.

“You looked at me and saw not just a werewolf,” Isaac continued, “or the weird son of the disgraced coach. And…” Isaac struggled with words, but Scott said nothing, giving him time. “You make me feel weird warm things inside. You’re kind, and hard-working, and you see the best in people; you inspire all of us…”

Scott pushed himself up so he was leaning on his elbow and looked down at his boyfriend, who was still staring at the ceiling, blushing slightly, and trying very hard to pretend that he had not been talking about his _feelings_ just now.

“You’re a dork,” Scott smiled as he shook his head.

Isaac rolled his eyes. “That’s rich, look who’s talking!”

“I love you too,” the alpha said as he leant down to cup his boyfriends face, pulling him up for a kiss.

**\---- <#)**

It was half-past eleven when the front door opened, and Melissa walked in. Half an hour ago she had texted Isaac to check that everything was fine and to let him know that she was getting ready to leave.

The first thing she saw when she got to the living room was that it was dimly lit, with only the lamp in the corner on. The radio was on, going on about flooding elsewhere in Beacon County. There were two dirty plates on the coffee table and, upon closer inspection, a bundle of blanket-clad werewolves on the couch. One of which was distinctively snoring.

“Isaac, I told you not to—”

“Mom,” Scott hissed in a low voice. “Keep it down.”

Mrs McCall walked closer to take a better look, only to see her son lying on the couch with a tall, blond, and lanky werewolf attached to him with a possessive arm across his shoulder and intertwined legs.

“Hang on, who was concussed? Don’t let him fall asleep if—”

“Shh, no, it’s okay. It was me,” Scott tried to reassure his mother, but he could not really move without waking Isaac up.

“Are you okay?” she asked with her nurse hat on. “How are you feeling?”

“I guess I’d be woozy still if I stood up, because my head still feels like a cloud of white noise, but the headache is gone.”

Melissa checked her son herself, asking him to follow her finger with his eyes and asking him some random memory questions, which the teenager only barely got right.

“Well,” she said as she stood up. “Other than not clearing the plates I think he has done a good job.”

“Who? Isaac?” Scott was still a tad slow.

“Yeah,” Scott’s mother said with a proud smile. “He took good care of you.”

Scott turned around to look at his chest, where Isaac was resting his head, as if trying to breathe in Scott’s scent lest he would forget it.

For a second he found himself thinking that, normally, it was Scott who took care of Isaac, and he had done so from the very beginning, as Stiles never ceased to remind him, but then Scott realised that there had been many times when it had been the other way around. Like when he stood against the twins when they wanted to join the pack, or when he did not let him go on his own to see Deucalion. Or during that lacrosse game when Jackson clawed himself dead as part of Gerard’s plan.

Scott could not help feeling extremely lucky, and his heart started to pump loudly in his chest, filling him with a calm feeling of elation.

“He _always_ does.”

**Author's Note:**

> As a rugby player I have some first-hand experience with concussions. I won't say this was 100% autobiographical (trust me, I would remeber if Daniel Sharman had been taking care of me), but yeah, concussions are not that fun. They can be fun in hindsight because you think 'god, I was stupid' but they are cumulative and they only get worse with time. In conclusion, don't be a head case - all concussions are serious!
> 
> More on concussions [here](https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/concussion/) and [here](https://community.wru.wales/governance/medical/concussion/)!


End file.
